Sexualy Frustrated
by Scones Of Rage
Summary: England is spending some alone time with his lover when he thinks Russia has cought the Sweating Sickness. So, he calls up a certain Frog for advice, only, it's not what he had thought it was. Russia x England. Rated M for a slight scene. R and R! I don't own Hetalia A quick One shot a friend and I did via Text message/Rp


I don't one Hetalia!

I wish I did though, it'd be full of hardcore Yaoi~ ^/^

England yawned and leaned back against his couch, his movement though, was slow and sluggish due to the arms keeping him in place. He groaned and huffed before turning the TV on, some kind of English comedy was playing but, it didn't really catch the Brits attentions. He turned his attention down to his lover, fast asleep and peaceful he was. His platinum blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, yet it still held it's fluffy, soft, shape, his face was also very flustered and warm. He was dressed in his casual clothing, a black wife beater and long tan trousers, his scarf was wrapped firmly around his hot neck though.

The green eyed blonde, frowned and set his pale hand on the other blonde's forehead, he pulled his hand back as if burned by the simple touch. His eyes narrowed, the thick brows gathering in confusion.

"The bloody hell…?" England reached over to his phone before glancing back at the Russian, whose arms were wrapped around his waist tightly in some sort of death lock. "Russia" He growled, not enjoying how close the other was to him, He struggled "Let go!"

"Kolkolkolkolkol~"

He instantly froze, his body becoming stiff as a threatening purple aura appeared around his lovers person. He flipped open his phone, one that had his flag on the sexy looking case, and dialed a number, one he never wanted to call.

After a few rings, the phone was picked up and answered.

"'Ello?"

"Y-yes, France?"

"Ahonhonhonhon~ Angleterre! What matter graces moi with you presence?" France's flirtatious voice hummed over the phone.

England could just see that frogs nasty smirk as indecent ideas ran through the Frenchman's head, he shuttered at the thought. "Um…" He couldn't think of what to say "S-should I be worried that Russia is hugging my waist when he mutters 'Kolkolkolkolkol' in his sleep?" He fidgeted nervously as said Russian's grip tightened around his waist. "Seriously Frog, Help. It's really freaking me out…" He hissed quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping giant.

It was quiet on France's side of the phone before England received an answer "Do I need to sent Canada over?" Of course! Canada! Canada could always make Russia those pancakes he liked very much but then again, he himself could always make them for his lover.

"N-No" he struggled to breathe "I think I've got it. He's been sleeping a long time though" he frowned though as he noticed a bead of sweat fall from the blonde's forehead. "I think he's sick though… His forehead is really hot and sweaty, his really flustered." A sudden thought crossed through his mind "I hope it's not the Sweating Sickness" He concluded.

The Sweating Sickness was a deadly Virus that started in England and spread throughout the northern half of Europe. France, Italy and other southern countries, thankfully, were not hit with the sickness, they were spared, however. Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, Flanders, and Holland where hit shortly after the uproar in England. The victim would have a great sense of apprehension usually followed by violent, cold shivers, giddiness, headaches and pains in the neck, back and shoulders. That was usually followed through after an hour with heat and sweating, victims also had delirium, a rapid pulse, and an intense thirst for whatever they can get their hands on. England himself, had suffered from the deadly virus but, due to him being a nation, he hadn't died like most of his people did.

"Non, I think I know what is wrong with our creepy, Russian friend!" France had sounded so… proud?

England's eyes narrowed even more "… Well? What the bloody hell is it then?" he demanded.

France chuckled "Ahonhonhonhonhon, Angleterre, even I am surprised! 'E's obviously Sexually Frustrated. 'Ave you not noticed the symptoms, Mon ami?"

The Englishman gulped and replied shakily, "W-well, I just…. D-didn't" He then asked with a flustered face "W-what should I do?" he was so nervous.

The Frenchman laughed "Obviously you two should 'ave sex!"

"B-but I'm scared!" this definitely was out of England's comfort zone "What if he doesn't take it slow?"

Sure, England had been in a lot of relations ships, more when he was a pirate, but, he'd never really been bottom…. Or with a man to be more accurate. He wanted his first time with a man to be memorable and cheerful, not dark and bloody!

" 'E likes it rough, so that's to be expected, Angleterre! Just take it like a man!" England had to pull the phone away from his ear; France was speaking _way_ too loud for his liking.

"Mhn…"

England's eyes shot over to Russia, who had started to awaken. His hair was still matted to his face, a little fluffier then before, and his skin wasn't as flustered as before. Russia's clothing was ruffled and all messed up and somehow; his zipper had come down, making the bulge in his pants stand out more than before. Purple eyes clashed with green, both mixing in a beautiful contrast, the eyes were also glazed over, filled with lust.

"Oh bloody hell! He's waking up! No- Hullo" a new voice cut over the Brits "You be talking to Angliya, da?"

"o-oui"

"Well, he is, how do I be saying, preoccupied? I will be having him contact you later, Tovarishch, Da?"

"S-sure-"the phone was cut off before France could even finish, with a gulp, one thought raced through his perverted.

'Will Angleterre be alright?'

Russia pinned the Brit to the couch, the TV completely forgotten. The Russian's large hands roamed down England's sides, pulling at the blonde's clothing, trying to rid the little bunny of his clothing.

"A-ah, R-Russia~"

"Da, moy malen'kiy snezhnyy krolika?"

England, who had a confused look on his face, threw his head back and arched his back with a moan when Russia's hand came up under his shirt and pinched at one of his hard nipples.

"P-please stop this at once, i-it is indecent!" he cried out.

He ignored the Englishman's plead and continued in torturing the younger nation's chest, a large, Cheshire like smile crept up to his face. England whimpered when Russia ripped open his green vest and white shirt, making him shutter at the sudden cold chill of the air.

"You like, da?" Purred Russia as he nuzzled his nose against his lovers.

England shifted uncomfortably and gave a groan when he felt Russia's bulge brush against his own. England arched his back and in a shock of pleasure, moaned.

"O-oh! Yes, Mn… Russia"

"Da, snezhnyy krolika, tell me what you want" He began to remove his own clothing, his body soon only clothed in long dark trousers.

"P-please! T-take me-"

"Mon Dieu!"

Russia ignored the gasp and continued eating away at Englands bruised and bloodied lips; no one would get in the way of his toy.

"R-Russia- France-"

"Is not here" He hissed while biting at the Englishman's lip making it bleed. England moaned and deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around Russia's neck.

France gulped and started to walk away, pulling at his jacket to make an attempt to hide his obvious boner. "I-I'll just be going-"he didn't even finish his sentence, he was already out the door.

"Time for fun, Da?"

"B-bloody Hell….."

A/N: When I refer to England as 'Younger' It's because, Russia, from what it says on Wiki, was formed in 882 and Great Britain in 1707. Hope that makes sense O^o

Russian:

Tovarishch- Comrade

Angliya- England

Da- Yes

Da, moy malen'kiy snezhnyy krolika?- Yes, my snowy little rabbit?

snezhnyy krolika- Little Rabbit

French:

Mon Dieu!- My God!


End file.
